


Nightmare's of A Haunted Past

by M_E_Lover



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Delusions, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/pseuds/M_E_Lover
Summary: This is set just after the ferry bombing and Harold is contemplating his life and the consequences of the choices he's made.I would appreciate any comments. If there's enough interest my plans are to continue it through to the present... In my usual whumpy way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I was depressed again what can I say?  
> Thanks as always to oddgit for the beta and cheer leading in torturing my sweetheart!

Harold struggled back to awareness from a terrible dream. Most dreams were unwelcomed these days as his past always comes at him in waves of sadness and loss.

If he could analyze them maybe he could deter their frequency but then again maybe they were meant to be an atonement for a life that was never supposed to continue.

He should have died with Nathan on that fateful day but instead maybe he now has to make up for not being able to save his best friend and partner. For not helping him at the time and instead putting Nathan in the predicament that took him from the world and his own life.

And for leaving Grace to continue on without him, to let her think he was dead. He deserved to be punished for being a coward and not allowing her to know the most basic truths of who he was and what he did in life. His fabricated existence was all a lie and she deserved to know everything. He couldn’t even tell her his real name and for that and much more he deserved not only the pain his damaged body doled out every moment of his existence but he deserved to suffer in his dreams as well.

There should be no relief or happiness in his survival. Nothing would make up for all of the damage that he has been responsible for over the past few years.

If he could hold out a little longer and give himself a little more time to heal… maybe he could undo some of the misery he had caused.

Thoughts of vengeance filled his waking hours at the cost of his soul but he didn’t care anymore. What was left for him now?

He elevated himself up in the bed, agony permeating every inch of his spine and lower back, into a sitting position and pushed the button that would call for the nurse. The pain was too intense at the moment and the morphine pump was dry. He didn’t want to sleep really for the nightmares would come again, but the anguish of his damaged body couldn’t be tolerated any more. He needed to be put out… to be knocked out. He would have to deal with what dreams may come… like it or not.

Tomorrow or maybe next week or next month… if he can stand to live that long… tomorrow he would evaluate and think hard about what steps he should take to recompense the damage he has done. Tomorrow he would try and think through his drug filled and addled brain and decide what his next his step would be. Does he want to live and try and repair the past or die and be rid of the pain and suffering for good? 

Tomorrow he would decide. Until then he would order the nurse to give him the maximum dose of the narcotics that were his primary life support and hope the dreams won’t be too bad…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still really angsty right now but eventually Harold's mission will unfold to include John and the rest of the characters that we all have come to know and love.  
> I have to confess that I used a few lines of dialogue that have been slightly altered from one of my favorite Pink Floyd song's. They were apt to Harold's condition and state of mind, I couldn't help myself.  
> Brownie points to anyone who wants to take a stab at which song they came from, it's pretty obvious to any fans of the band.
> 
> *******

He awakens with a jolt as if he has been electrocuted... dazed and bleary from another terrifying reminder of the worst day of his life. 

The horrible and frequent explosion in his nightmares, and the vision of Nathan being eclipsed by a blinding and painful light, seemed as if they would never end. 

Then there is what comes next in the dream... when he opens his bleary eyes and is confused by the flurry of activity. Then the pain hits as he struggles to turn over… an excruciating pain in his back as he shifts to lay supine in a makeshift triage center. 

It’s when he puts his hand to the back of his neck and brings it back around to find thick blood coating his fingertips that his memory starts to return.

He calls out for his partner, still confused but aware enough to know that something horrible has happened. A nurse rushes over to him to tell him to lie still, that he has injuries to his neck and lower back and then she hurries away. That’s when it registers. 

He struggles to turn over… to look to the side of where he lays and feeling an ominous dread... he senses his partner’s presence only to see two menacing men standing over Nathan’s dead body as the nurse pulls a cover over his still and expressionless face. 

He hears one of them tell someone through their communication line that’s it’s done and they’ll find anyone else that Nathan may have had contact with and take care of them too.

Then he feels the intense need to run… the adrenaline forcing his wrecked body to move of its own volition… to get far away from there but then stopping intuitively and hiding from her sight when he sees Grace come into the large room, frantic and scared to death as she searches for him… calling out for him. But he can’t… he can’t go to her… to comfort her because those same two men are hovering closely in her direct vicinity, looking for anyone connected to Nathan. 

The decision he had to make in that second… to not go to her, was one more agonizing torture to add to the growing list. There was nothing else he could do, it had to be. 

Never again would he feel her softness… never again would he hear her sweet voice telling him that she loves him. There was no other choice but to leave her life, to protect her from everything that he had inadvertently and naively put into motion.

That was the day that had destroyed his happiness forever and took his desire to live away from him. That was the day he said goodbye to life as he had known it. 

Now it seemed that he was destined to be punished with these horrific dreams for the remainder of his days. However long that turned out to be.

#

“Hello?” There was a voice far off in the distance… like a distant ship’s smoke on the horizon. 

He opened his eyes and saw a face. They were only coming through in waves. Their lips moved but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He could do nothing more than blink at the tall blonde man. 

Then he suddenly felt tears run from his eyes as the man looked so much like Nathan; he couldn’t stand it and had to squeeze them shut. He felt the desire to spin into oblivion.

“Okay.” He heard more words through the expanse of ethereal space he felt he was currently residing in. “Just a little pinprick… there’ll be no more pain but you may feel a little sick.” 

Harold forced his eyes open. The doctor was right, there was no more pain but he felt himself receding further into emptiness.

“I do believe it’s working… good.” He heard the words on the periphery of his consciousness. “That’ll keep you for now.”

Yes, he thought to himself, he could reside here forever and be content… comfortably numb. No feeling, no thoughts… an atmosphere of complete and utter limbo. Maybe this was death… if so he welcomed it with open arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold is depressed and feels hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that eventually it will get better. Please hang in there with me.

What day was it… how long had it been?” He had no idea. In one of his intermittent lucid moments, he thought he heard the doctor say that it had been nine days since his spinal surgery but he couldn’t be sure of anything right now. 

The drugs that were feeding his system were becoming his only relief from pain and if he were lucky... memories of that horrific day that was permanently etched into his brain. Nine days would mean that Nathan was laying entombed in the cold earth for more than a few of those days and Grace would be in deep mourning. 

While he normally detested not having all of his mental faculties intact, for the moment he welcomed the fogginess that was his entire existence right now… if that was what one could call it. The alternative was more than he could take at the moment.

He was semi-aware this time when the doctor came back to check up with his progress.

“How’s your pain level, sir?” The blonde man asked.

“Let me die,” he heard himself reply. It was not the response the doctor expected but it was exactly how he felt.

The man smiled nervously as he studied the latest charts.  
“He must think I’m kidding,” Harold thought unfavorably. 

“I think we’re going to have to get you weaned off the pain medicine a little to get a better gauge of your improvement.” The doctor suggested optimistically.

“I think you need to increase it exponentially doctor,” Harold slurred gravely.

The smile faltered from the doctor’s face as he knew by the look in Harold’s eyes he was serious.

“Sir… I can’t… I can’t do that,” the doctor stammered.

“Then find me someone who can.” Harold hissed through clenched teeth, the pain again becoming unbearable.

The young doctor looked at him uneasily. “Sir please, we have to get you well again. You can’t continue like this. We have to determine our next move so that you can get back to your life.”

“That’s where you’re wrong young man... I no longer have a life.” The doctor was speechless as Harold leered at him angrily. 

“I’ll send the nurse in. Please… just think more on the ramifications of what you’re considering sir.” The young doctor waited for a reply for a moment before he moved to leave the room but saw none coming. Harold’s contemptuous expression unnerved him so he turned to leave.

“Wait!” Harold exclaimed weakly. 

He knew he needed to temper his request and tried to take a calming breath but even that much was painful to do.

“I have thought more on the subject than you know.” Harold tried to swallow down the cotton balls he seemed to have soaking up the moisture in his mouth and preventing his ability to speak clearly. 

“Perhaps you could use some extra money doctor... would five million suffice?”

The young doctor looked at him in dismay but didn’t answer right away as he seemed to consider the offer. 

Maybe the man had a wife … maybe children as well. Surely he had not paid for all of the medical training involved in the specialty of his field. Harold felt some seed of hope planted in his mind by the doctor’s hesitancy.

“Ten million then?” Harold suggested encouragingly. 

The doctor still did not offer to speak as he stood there in front of him horrified yet seeming to consider the offer.

“In cash doctor,” he added and then gasped and winced in pain as the whole of his back and body sent a wave of agony through him.

The doctor rushed out of the room. A nurse came in shortly thereafter.

Once more he ordered the nurse to administer the maximum dose of potent narcotics for the terrible pain and prayed to escape the nightmares. 

Once more he would put the decision of his future on hold until tomorrow… unless the young doctor agrees to the resolution he asked of him tonight.

#

His answer came by way of a petite auburn haired woman who was sitting in a comfortable looking lounge chair that had obviously been put there when he was unconscious. She was watching him… waiting for him to next open his eyes.

When he did finally open them... blurry and unfocused, he could only see a shape next to him in his periphery vision. 

The woman leaned forward into his line of sight, helping to mitigate the need to turn his head to see her.

His eyesight cleared some as he blinked away the cloudiness of the perpetual drug haze he constantly resided in.

She made no effort to speak and it irked him that she didn’t have the decency to introduce herself.

He looked at her irritated, “Who the hell are you?" He asked crossly. 

The woman smiled pleasantly, “My name is Diane, Mister Wren... I’m here to help you.”  



	4. Chapter 4

“Where’s the doctor!?” Harold groused crossly. “I don’t want your kind of help madam nor do I need it!” He spat the words at her venomously but she didn’t waver.

The woman continued to smile at him unfazed. “I think that you do need help Mister Wren and I also think you know it to be true.”

“How dare you presume to tell me what I need!” This last exchange of words was brutal for him as he got more animated and he felt around the bed feebly for the morphine dispenser to take the edge off of the mounting pain.

She watched him seemingly amused as his frustration grew and his hands roamed over the sheets searching around in vain.

“Well the least you could do is help me find the god damned pain pump!” He exclaimed finally in exasperation.

She didn’t offer to move or help him and the rage Harold felt was starting to tip into a full on tantrum.

“Get the hell out... now!” He yelled at her and gave up trying to find relief and attempted to make it clear how much he wanted her to leave, he shut his eyes and turned his head as best as he could. He laid his head back into his pillow as tears of frustration slipped from his eyes and trickled down his face.

Her demeanor remained unbelievably calm and it only made Harold’s rage manifest further. He opened his eyes to find her still looking at him. “I said get out!” He barked again. “Go!”

“Harold… You really should calm yourself, you’re only making it worse.” 

He refused to look at her. Shutting his eyes again, he recited lines of code in his mind; attempting and failing to get a handle on the escalating agony. 

He could sense her presence still and under intense duress he momentarily relented.

“Please…” He asked at last. “I need some help with the pain.”

No sooner had he made the request he felt himself clutching the morphine pump. He hadn’t even noticed her putting it in his hand. 

He pressed it with his thumb and held it down until he felt pleasant warmth running through his veins. He could finally breathe in relief even if it were only for a short while.

“Thank you,” he stated miserably. “Now please leave or I will have you removed.”

She made no reply and when he opened his eyes she was standing over him still smiling at him. 

“Listen Miss…? He began impatiently and waited for her to respond.

“It’s Diane Harold,” she replied amiably. 

“You must have a surname madam, I’m not in the habit of referring to someone that I don't know by their first name so if you please…” What was with her? The woman didn’t even offer to say anything; she just continued to smile at him causing his blood pressure to rise further. 

“I would appreciate you telling me your last name god dammit!” Harold was really becoming increasingly irate once more and used all of his strength of will not to go off on this annoyingly affable woman and throw something at her.

“You really don’t recognize me, do you?” She asked curiously amused.

He looked at her in confusion. “Should I?” He replied snippety. 

“My last name is Claypool, Harold. Ring any bells?” She grinned.

Harold’s jaw dropped. “Diane Claypool?” He asked in disbelief.

She smiled warmly at him and nodded.

“Arthur Claypool’s wife?” He asked in incredulity. 

She nodded again, still maintaining the ever-present grin on her face.

Harold looked at her and started to feel disorientated. He did recognize her now and what he was seeing was impossible.

“But you’re dead… aren’t you?” his mouth went dry.

She nodded in affirmation and smiled down at his bewildered face fondly. “Arthur sends his love.”


End file.
